


Male Reader X Female Michael Myers

by CampGreen



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Horror, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 15:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12345627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampGreen/pseuds/CampGreen
Summary: Happy Halloween! Well, it's not quite the 31st, but I wasn't gonna make you wait several weeks just for this. Anyways, this isn't the only Halloween special I'm making this month, so stay tuned. Michael Myers and Halloween are owned by Dimension Films.





	1. Babysitting

_"Well, Happy Halloween, Haddonfield, Tony Moran and Nancy Kyes here with a late night news report. This year's All Hallow's Eve is going well,"_ the cheery anchorman explains as footage of trick-or-treaters exploring neighborhoods play alongside his narration. _"As a matter of fact, this might be the busiest Halloween Illinois has had in years. Haddonfield's really gotten its festive spirit back, from the looks of it."_

 _"Which might actually prove to be a bad thing,"_ Nancy follows up on. _"A patient once treated at Smith's Grove Sanitarium, an asylum for the criminally insane about a 150 miles north of here, escaped last night and is still at large. A manhunt is currently in progress for this 'Michelle Myers', but until she's apprehended, keep a close eye on your children, as she's considered armed and dangerous. In other news..."_

 _"Hey, there's an upside to not going trick-or-treating tonight,"_ you joke to Billy, the little brat you've had to spend your Halloween babysitting all night. _"'Least you won't get snatched up by the Boogeyman like all the other kids will."_

Billy isn't amused. You wouldn't be either. Poor kid had to stay home tonight of all nights thanks to a nasty cold. _"Can I have some more medicine?"_

_"Your parents said not to give you more than two pills. Just go lay in bed for a while and see how you feel."_

He weakly slides off the recliner and crawls up the stairs, leaving the living room all to yourself. You flip through the channels and give yourself some background noise in the form of Halloween specials and horror movies. Out of boredom, you go over to one of the windows and peek past its shutters. You study the blackened, lonely street that wraps around the house you lounge in. A chill blows through the trees, causing autumn's leaves to elegantly dance around the burlesque-gothic decorations entrenching most of the neighboring houses, and trick-or-treaters skittering about the concrete. You see Frankenstein's monsters, mummies, vampires, all the traditional movie monsters, or at least cheap costume renditions of them. For a few seconds, you reminisce upon all the good times you had trick-or-treating as a kid. 

You do a double take at the odd-looking fellows mixed into the melting pot of the horror season. A person in straitjacket and inmate slacks, a figure in a boiler suit and a white mask, and someone suspicious in a black hoodie. Whoever that asylum escapee is, they sure are clever, picking Halloween of all nights to make a run for it. The crowd of costumes must make for a great smokescreen. Creepy thought. Finished with soaking in the seasonal suburbs, you plop right back onto the couch and stuff your face with popcorn from a giant bowl with cobwebs printed on it. Your zombie-like trance towards the TV gets cut off when the power goes out, overwhelming the house with darkness. Billy's cowardly shriek strikes your ears like a couple of nails being hammered into each of the holes. You stumble around in the dark, using touch alone to locate a flashlight from the kitchen drawer, and use it to guide yourself through the sea of black up to Billy's bedroom.

 _"I-I-It's the Boogeyman!"_ Billy's quivering voice explains as he trembles from under his covers.

_"It's just a power outage, Billy. I'll go check the fuse-box."_

_"No! I saw him out the window, I swear!"_

You humor Billy by glancing outside, which gives you a view of the utility shed out in the backyard, where the fuse-box is installed. The shed's door is wide open. 

_"Oh, alright, the Boogeyman caused the power outage, I see. Don't worry, Billy, I'll go down there and stop him,"_ you patronize as you mess up his hair. 

_"B-But he'll kill you!"_

You throw on something warm to combat the cold night you're about to trudge through and take a quick walk outside, going out the kitchen's back door and arriving at the utility shed. The ray of your torch paints the old, crickety insides of the tiny house with light, before finally landing on the fuse-box. You pry open its hatch and dig around in its electrical guts. One of the three fuses is missing. You're split on whether or not you should bother trying to fix it. On one hand, it'll shut Billy up and the parents might add in a little bonus for playing electrician. On the other, that would require work, and you're perfectly fine with just sleeping in a dark living room all night. You roll your eyes as you come to a compromise - if there isn't a spare fuse in the shed, too bad. Fortunately, after a few seconds of scavenging around the lightless shack, you find what you're looking for in one of the drawers and pop it into place. Problem solved, and with minimal effort too. Then the door shuts behind you.


	2. The Shape

You bang on the one and only entrance and exit but it's locked shut.

 _"Billy!"_ you yell, trying to throw your voice a decent distance. _"Billy, this isn't funny!"_

That snot-nosed fucking brat. You try at the door for a little while longer before giving up and sinking down the wall in defeat and frustration. Are you really gonna spend Halloween trapped in a cold shed? Thanks to the window being locked, the only way you could ever get out of here is by breaking something, and the sole reason you're even out here is to make money, not owe it. You mope around in the blackened outhouse for a while before you hear an explosion of glass breaking in the distance. You can believe Billy locked you in the shed, but would he really shatter a window? He doesn't seem like that mischievous or destructive of a kid. 

Your suspicions of Billy being behind all of this are wiped when you hear him let out a bloodcurdling scream at the top of his lungs. Without hesitation, you pick up the biggest rock you can find and chuck it through the window, climbing atop one of the work benches and dragging yourself out of the shed and back into the yard. You rush to the house but the back door locked behind you when you left earlier. You climb through the other broken window and stumble into the living room. Something collides into your leg, like a toddler trying to tackle you. It's Billy, face soaked in tears. You get on your knees and comfort him with a hug, before shaking him out of his fearful blubbering to get some answers. 

_"Billy, what happened?!"_

_"T-T-The Boogeyman! I told you, she's here!"_

_"She?"_ You shine your light upstairs and see nothing. _"Billy, where do your parents keep their phone?"_

_"U-Upstairs, at the end of the hall!"_

_"Alright, Billy, I need you to...I need you to hide in one of the cabinets, alright? Hide in one of the cabinets and don't leave until I come and get you."_

_"O-Okay!"_

Billy scurries off into the kitchen, hopefully to follow your orders to the letter. You gather enough courage to cautiously creep upstairs, cold wood stinging your soles with every step. Something small rolls down the stairwell, landing at your feet. You pick it up off the step and inspect it. It's a splintered fuse. You shine your light from the source, and almost fall right back down the staircase in shock. A leggy, ample figure densely fills in a suit of denim overalls, with black boots and, most prominently, a chalk-colored, featureless mask wearing a mop of fake, shaggy brown hair. A wickedly sharp, foot-long chef's knife is tightly gripped in her right hand. You can tell it's a woman from the two well-sized bubbles hiding behind the suit's zipper. It's Michelle Myers, the psycho that escaped from Smith's Grove, it must be! The two of you share a long, frozen stare, her stature seeming even more imposing than it already is since she towers at the crown of the stairs whilst you cower near the foot. Then she starts stomping towards you. Shaking out of your daze of fear, you bolt down the stairs and stumble around in the shadows of the residence. 

The darkness alone twists the once simplistic clapboard house into a cold, petrifying labyrinth of blackness. You're sprinting as fast as you can but her steady, measured foot-steps only get louder and louder with your every pant and heartbeat. In your mostly blind bolt throughout the bottom floor, your foot gets caught on some furniture and you're sent plummeting straight to the carpet. On the way down, your head is slammed up against the edge of the fireplace's mantel, which tears a vicious slash into your temple and almost brings the plank down with you. Myers catches up and stabs her knife earthbound like a lightning bolt striking the soil. The mantel suddenly snaps off the wall and clatters onto you, so you think fast at the last second and use it as a shield. Myers skewers the wooden sill, deeply burrowing her knife into it and narrowly missing what she was aiming for - your palm. You toss the mantel aside, along with the knife wedged into its heart, and throw both of your soles into Myers' face with every last ounce of your strength, stunning her and giving you enough time to scramble back to feet and resume the chase. You finally find the front door from within the disorienting, fever dreamish warren of gloom, and tug and push on it as you frantically rattle its knob to no avail. You're cornered, at the feet of a psychotic convict. You sink down the door and grovel in the killer's silhouette.

_"Please don't kill me! Please!"_

She doesn't. She instead gets on her knees and starts molesting you. You try to struggle from underneath the beast's hold, but she has you pinned to the floor like a nail in the wall. The girl doesn't even look that big, but her physical strength is absolutely inhuman. She fiercely peels your clothes open, sending buttons and zippers flying everywhere and exposing the surface of your body. With her kitchen knife, she methodically carves you up like one of the jack-o-lanterns decorating the porch, only so slightly that each slice merely stings. By the end, dozens of fairly deep cuts litter the skin that hugs your muscles. 

Your thighs, your chest, your arms, your back, your rear. All mildly mutilated so it looks like you took a bath in a tub of jagged glass. Tenderized by the razor edge of her blade, you lay on the floor almost paralyzed. A death by a thousand cuts. Taking advantage of this, now that she no longer has to maul you, Myers drags her zipper all the way down to her taint to open up a massive window to her entire frontal body as she slips her legs out from her jumpsuit and slips her feet out from her boots. She runs her palms through your hair and uses them to shove your lips onto her exposed chest. You're forced to dine upon her breasts and rugged body, guided by the ten fingers digging into your scalp. 

Her bath climaxes at what lies right above the zipper - her vagina. She reinforces her control over you by planting her feet onto the back of your head to help her hands keep you pinned. You aversely slurp up the tangy juices secreting from in between the pink crevice of flesh, which sickens you to your stomach. You nearly suffocate from having the two muscular legs hug your crown for so long, but you're finally given a quick breath when Myers relents. Then she makes you dig even deeper, one story down, pressing your chin against the wooden floor as you're forced into a rimjob. The tip of your tongue twirls around her anus as it contracts like the beating of your heart. 

You're almost smothered on the coughs induced by the excess of vaginal fluids smearing into your mouth, nose, and eyes from above, yet she of course just barely gives you enough space to breathe, making sure not to let you pass out or asphyxiate. You're blinded for most of the experience, thanks to being mere atoms away from her sopping insides. All you have is touch to guide you. Your fingertips brush up against something sharp and metal - Myers' knife. She's getting so into your rape that her focus has long slipped away from her own weapon. You seize it by its handle, rip yourself out of her twenty digit choke, and stab the thing into one of her eye-holes in a burst of strength and adrenaline. You pick your run back up, yet thanks to the countless lacerations painfully scrapping up against the residue of your clothes like a bunch of foul paper-cuts, your movement is as coherent and clumsy as a drunk's. Hearing a blade dislodge from flesh and the zip of a jumpsuit behind you, you pick up the pace, barrel upstairs, and lock yourself in the first thing you find - the parents' bedroom. 


	3. Call For Help

Before you can even gather your thoughts, a fist flies through the door as if it's made of Styrofoam and unlocks it. In these few seconds before you're cornered, you dart and dig around the room like a dumpster diver on cocaine. Hiding under the bed or in the closet would just be trapping yourself again, and jumping out the window is too risky now that you're on the second floor and already ravaged enough. Your desperate mind falls on the nightstand and you fish through it until you feel something frigid and iron among all of the warm fabric and cotton. You rip it out from underneath the folds of sleepwear and twist around with a revolver held loosely in your clammy hands. It's as if Myers, now again fully clothed and with blood gushing out one of her eye-holes, doesn't even see the barrel of the six-shooter she's staring down. 

She fearlessly continues her wooden stride directly towards you, so you wildly slam your finger down on the trigger and riddle her with holes, each bang worsening your eardrums more than the last. She staggers through the attack like she's wearing a bulletproof vest, but soon the brutish energy fueling her drains from the three small bloody craters you ripped into her jumpsuit, and her corpse slumps to the ground with a loud thud. You slide down the nightstand as your racing heart gradually slows. Myers' blood pools into the cracks of the floorboard and in between your toes. It's over. A nightmare ripped straight from the scary movies you watched as a kid, over. You rot in the terror of this traumatizing night. Your entire being scorched by what this sick fuck did to you, and without a single word too. You weakly rise to your feet and step over Myers' smoking carcass. You drop the gun and stagger back into the hallway to the house phone Billy spoke of. It's a good fucking thing you repaired that power box. You shakily punch in 9-1-1.

 _"Haddonfield 9-1-1, what's your emergency?"_ a pleasant, feminine voice chirps from the other side of the phone.

 _"Someone broke into my house..."_ you speak like a soldier trapped in a thousand yard stare. _"I think I killed them..."_

_"Are you hurt?"_

_"I'm bleeding really bad..."_

_"Alright, sweetie, emergency services should arrive in five minutes. Just hold on and try to keep pressure on the-"_

Five fingers dig into the back of your head and slam your skull into the answering machine, breaking both it, and your nose. A stream of blood sours from your nostrils as you're ferociously manhandled by...Myers. You unloaded half a magnum into her stomach. How is this woman still standing? She seizes you by the collar and flings you across the corridor with no effort at all. You crash through the window at the tail end of the hallway and plummet around 15 feet straight into the backyard, through a sheet of glass. Legs broken from the fall and your body torn up from head to toe by the dozens of jagged shards you were flung through, you writhe on the ground with several ounces of blood spilling out of your veins and onto the chilly grass below. You wish the fall broke your spine too so you wouldn't have to put up with the inexpressible pain engulfing your lower body right now. Somehow, as if she teleported, Myers is already in the yard with you, towering over you like an evil spire. You desperately drag yourself through the wet sod in a hopeless attempt to escape your terrorizer. She catches your ankle with her firm, powerful hand and reels you in like a fish. This ignites a wildfire of agony onto your shattered, mangled leg, finally siphoning out your last remnants of energy and leaving you an incapacitated husk at Myers' mercy. She again partially sheds her boiler suit to unveil the three bullets you dug into her admittedly well-built torso, almost as if she's taunting you with her inexplicable immortality. 

All you can think right now is "Why you?" Of the thousands of people living in Haddonfield, why has a mute, invincible lunatic chosen to prey exclusively upon you? She squats over your face and starts boring a few of her fingers into her pussy, squeezing out the few drizzles of zesty liquid you missed back in the living room onto your face. Tablespoons of the stuff pour in between your lips, giving each and every one of your tastebuds plenty to thrive on. Vagina run dry from waterboarding you with its sap, Myers slides down a few feet so she's sitting on your lap, before she seizes your throat and squeezes it with only half of her terrifying strength. As her hands choke your neck, her butt-cheeks choke your cock. She bounces her hips up and down to hammer your groin as she strangles the life out of you. 

The backup of carbon dioxide caused by Myers' grip forces sensations of giddiness to tickle your cock alongside the interior of her rectum. Even though she's riding you with a beastly temper that further bruises your neck and crotch, absolutely nothing can be heard from underneath her mask. Not the slightest pant or moan. Dead silence as the gaze of her black, gaping eye-holes penetrate your spirit. Your frail, weary gasps and sniffles provide more than enough sound to fill the silence of a dying Halloween night, though. A few drops of blood pour into your eye, from the wound you inflicted onto Myers'. Despite being on the brink of death, your hormones manage to find enough pleasure from the rape to culminate in a stormy orgasm, splattering a flare-up of semen to smother your balls and pelvis with from the spillage. 

Finally done with violating you down to nothing but a cum-soaked shell, Myers flourishes her knife and readies to give you one final Halloween treat - this time, across your jugular. At this point, death seems merciful. You're a dying animal, exhausted of all it can give, and now the hunter's had enough fun to want to finally put you out of your misery. Right before you start looking forward to getting your throat slit, the high-pitched howls of police sirens sound in the distance. You can almost see the annoyed scowl through Myers' blank mask at the approaching emergency services. She drops you back into the grass, zips her jumpsuit up, and marches into the darkness surrounding the house to disappear in the midst of night, back where she came from. 

A squad of police officers and paramedics storm the yard right after all indication of Myers vanishes, and you're placed upon a stretcher and loaded up into the back of an ambulance. On the way there, you catch a glimpse of Billy, blanketed and comforted by a couple of cops. As you writhe on top of the gurney, twisted in plenty more ways than one, all you can focus on is her. You can feel her empty gaze seething through the ambulance. She's still out there, stalking from the outskirts of the neighborhood. Halloween is far from over, she's still got about four and a half hours to prey with. At first, you're numb to the realization, but about halfway into the ambulance ride, it really hits you. 

**She's still out there.**  



End file.
